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The Red Dress - a short, erotic story

December 11, 2015

 

 

“Very nice.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’ve been caught.  I swivelled around so fast that the white wine splashed from the crystal goblet on to the carpet.  Have they come back early?  But, no, it wasn’t my boss, Isabelle, and her husband Philippe.  Instead a dark haired man, probably in his late twenties, was holding on to the open door, one hand on his hip, and eyeing me up and down.  My face reddened with the embarrassment of being caught, but I was also a little alarmed.  Who the hell was this guy?  And how had he got into the house?

I stopped dancing immediately.  Well I hadn’t exactly been dancing, but shimmying my hips to the sound of the salsa music that was playing, and wearing the sexiest dress I have ever worn, which belonged to Isabelle.  The opportunity of trying on one of her exquisite designer gowns had been too much of a temptation.

“Don’t stop on my account.”  He smiled, a little lasciviously I thought, and walked over to one of the chairs, flopping down and slinging one of his elegantly clad legs over one of the arms, so his thighs were splayed.

“Who are you?”  It was an effort to speak without a tremble in my voice, but I was determined to show this man, who could only be a burglar, that I wasn’t scared.

“The very question I was about to ask you,” he came back smoothly.

“I’m the nanny.”

“Ah, the nanny.  Well that makes sense as Isabelle and Philippe are obviously out.  I assume that Alexander is sleeping upstairs.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.  It seemed he wasn’t a burglar after all.

“Yes.  I had trouble getting him to sleep.  But he dropped off about thirty minutes ago, thank goodness.  But you didn’t tell me who you are.”

“No, I didn’t, did I?”  He paused for a moment; then carried on talking.  “I like your dress.  Isabelle must be paying you well if you can afford to work in Balenciaga.  Do you know it looks so much like a dress she wore last month at a charity ball?  You both have impeccable taste.”

I coloured again.  It was clear that he was determined to torment me.  I looked at his handsome, tanned face, and the way his hair flopped over one eye.  He looked so much like…  Of course, he must be Olivier, Philippe's son from his first marriage. He was about the right age, and spoke with the same sexy French accent, although his voice was not so deep as his father’s.

“You’re Olivier, I suppose.”

 “Your powers of deduction are admirable.”  He was mocking me, I was sure.

I felt that I should try and explain what I was doing, dancing in my boss’s drawing room, wearing one of her exquisite, and very sexy, evening dresses, and drinking Philippe’s fine wine.  I went over and turned off the music.   

“That’s a shame.  I like salsa music.  What's your name, by the way?”

“It’s Lily.  I think I should explain…”

“There’s nothing to explain, Lily.  I understand perfectly.  Isabelle and Philippe have gone out for the evening, and you decided that, while the cat’s away, as they say here in England…  By the way, I think the dress suits you more than it does Isabelle.”

His voice was flirtatious, and he looked at me with a suggestive grin.  It’s pathetic, I know, but my body reacted almost instinctively to his low, French-accented voice and his laconic smile.  I’ve always been a bit of a sucker for Gallic charm, and find his father sexy too, even though he is old (well, from my twenty year old perspective anyway).  He’s probably around fifty, which to me is positively ancient.  Whereas Olivier here…

I cleared my brain of such thoughts and wondered how I was going to deal with my current predicament.  He must have read my mind.

“Now, it seems to me, Lily, that you are in a spot of bother.  I have caught you wearing your boss’s expensive dress, drinking her wine, and wearing her shoes no doubt.”  He was looking down pointedly at the gold Louboutin sandals, which probably cost what I earned in a month.  “So what I need to decide is what I should do about it.”

He looked thoughtful and brought his hand to his chin, rubbing the back of one of his fingers slowly over his lips.  I should have been annoyed with him, but instead I felt excitement running through my body like an electric current.  I had no idea what he had in mind, but he had the look on his face of a wolf circling its prey, and whatever penalty was in his mind I was beginning to think that I might just find the experience pleasurable.

“Why don’t you put the music back on and continue dancing.  Oh, and I think you should take those panties off.  Have you not heard of a visible panty line?  I doubt that Isabelle wears panties with this dress.”

I don’t know what got into me, but, before I even thought the matter over, I hitched the dress up to reach for the top of my panties, quickly dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them.  It didn’t even cross my mind to challenge him on this. 

 “Switch the music back on.”

I walked over to the music centre, conscious that my behind, naked under the soft, slithering silk, was being scrutinised.  When I returned to where I had been dancing I saw the spark in his eyes that I was sure signalled trouble, but a sense of wild abandon had entered me, and I knew that I was powerless to stop it.

“Now why don’t you show me your salsa moves?”

I remained where I was, a little unsure about what he intended to happen.  He held his hands up, in a surrender sign.

“I won’t touch you.  Promise.  At least, not without your consent.”

I closed my eyes and began to dance, absorbing the sensuous music and allowing it to flow freely throughout my body.  The truth was that something had been ignited within me, and I began to hope that he would, in fact, touch me.  I was crying out to be touched.  I felt intoxicated by the combination of the music, the wine, the dress and him, and a deep craving for…something, was beginning to overtake me.

The thought that this man was watching me dance, watching the way the dress slithered over my naked bottom, excited me in a way I had never been excited before.  I could feel dampness between my thighs, and I wondered if he would be able to sense this, simply from watching me.

             “You have a wonderful bottom, Lily.  But I expect you have been told that before.”

I didn’t answer, but continued to sway to the hypnotic rhythm of the South American music.

“If you were mine I would ban you from ever wearing panties, and make you dress like this all the time, even to do the housework.”  He laughed.  “That conjures up a delightful picture in my head of you down on all fours, scrubbing the floor.” 

I swallowed.  The daring side of me wanted to respond to his flirtatious manner, but my other side was more cautious.  This man could cost me my job if Isabelle found out what I had been doing.  I said nothing.

I heard him stand and walk towards me, until he was just inches away from my back.  He bent and whispered into my ear.

“You really have been very naughty, wearing Isabelle’s dress and tormenting me in it.  Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”

I didn’t turn, but whispered back, a little hoarsely.  “No.”

He was so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath on my neck.

“They get their bottoms spanked.  Have you ever had your bottom spanked, Lily?”

The words stuck in my throat.  My breaths were coming out a little faster and my heart was pounding so fast that I felt as though I had run a marathon.

“Answer me, Lily.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never had my bottom spanked.”

“But you have been naughty, haven’t you, Lily?  What would Isabelle say if she came home right now and caught you like this?”

“Oh, please, you mustn’t tell her.  I’ll lose my job.”

“Mmm.”  He paused, as though he was thinking the matter over.  “You have no need to worry, Lily.  I won’t tell her, whatever you decide.  But I think you already know what you want me to do, don’t you?  I think you know you have been naughty and I think that you want me to spank you, don’t you?

“Yes.”  My voice was barely a whisper.

“What’s that, Lily, I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Yes, I think I should be spanked.” 

“Good, I think you will feel much better about wearing Isabelle’s dress when you have been spanked.”

He took my hand and led me to an armchair and I immediately bent over the side.

“No, no, Lily.  I can’t spank you over the dress.  We might spoil it, and I doubt that you can afford to replace it.  Let me pull it up for you.”

Slowly, so slowly, he pulled the red silk dress up my legs and over my bottom, until it was fully bared.  He was silent for a moment, presumably admiring my rear end.  He coughed to clear his throat.

“I think I am going to enjoy this, Lily.  I think that twenty would be a suitable number to teach you not to wear Isabelle’s dresses, don’t you think?”

I nodded, completely unable to speak, and terrified that he would see the tell tale dampness on my inner thighs that would condemn me as a sex-mad slut.

He raised his arm and brought his hand down sharply on my bottom, and I gave a small gasp; partly out of shock, it wasn’t as though it was all that painful.  It was just the thought of laying there, my bottom exposed, and being spanked by a total stranger.  The humiliation I felt was added to by the pleasurable tremor that ran through my pussy.  Perhaps I was a sex-mad slut after all?

He spanked me steadily until he reached the tenth stroke and paused.

“Well, well, Lily, it looks to me as though you are enjoying this.  Are you enjoying it?”

He pushed my legs slightly apart so that he could see the sign of my enjoyment glistening on my thighs, and ran his finger along my thigh to gather some of my liquid pleasure.  He brought his finger round to my face for me to see.

“See, Lily, the evidence is right here.  You are enjoying it aren’t you?”

I closed my eyes with embarrassment, but nodded my head in assent.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Lily, it is perfectly normal.  Lots of people like being spanked.  I had better get on and give you the other ten before Isabelle and Philippe return home.  I hate to leave a job half done.”

He began to spank me again, and try as I might, I could not prevent myself from groaning and involuntarily I ground my hips against the chair arm.  He reached twenty, but I remained motionless, unwilling to stand upright.  I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for, but Olivier obviously did, for he bent forward and kissed me on my reddened bottom cheek.

“You have been very good in accepting your punishment, Lily.  I think now that you should have a little reward.  Would you like me to make you feel good?”

I nodded, unable to look up at him. 

“Is that a yes, Lily?” 

I whispered, “Yes”, and felt his hand slip between my thighs to the source of my pleasure.  His finger was so light at first, sliding through the stickiness, to and fro over my mound, before it slipped through my entrance and inside me.  I gasped as a shiver ran through me and would have collapsed on to the chair if he had not been supporting me with his other arm.

His finger found my clit, swollen now no doubt, and gently began to massage it, all the time whispering words of French into my ear; words which my brain could not translate, but which my body had no problem understanding.

His finger increased in pressure and speed, and I wanted to rotate my hips in the same way, but his arm held me steady.  I was beginning to lose all sense of where I was and what was happening, so swept up was I in a primitive sexual urge that was beyond my control. 

He took me higher and higher until I could hold back no more, and came with a flood of pleasure that travelled the length and breadth of my body in shivering ripples.  I began to cry, but they were not tears of sorrow or fear; they were tears of pleasure for a sensation I had longed for in my dreams, but never experienced in reality.

He held me close to him and stroked my hair as I came down from the top of the mountain.  Then he leaned over and kissed my shoulder.

“Now, pretty Lily, I think you had better go and change out of that dress before Isabelle comes back,” and he pulled the dress back down over my body, before whispering, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

I went upstairs, hung the dress in Isabelle’s closet and changed back into the jeans and t-shirt I had been wearing before, wincing slightly as I pulled them over my tender, freshly smacked bottom.  I remembered that I had left my panties downstairs and went down to claim them before they were seen.

I expected Olivier to be in the drawing room when I returned, but there was no sign on him, and neither could I find my panties.  Just then I heard the front door open and voices in the hall.  I went out to greet Isabelle and Philippe as they arrived home, and saw a third figure behind them.  It was a young man.  Philippe spoke first.

“Hello, Lily.  I hope Alexander wasn’t too much trouble.  Oh, by the way, this is my son Olivier.  I don’t believe you have met him yet.  He is over from France for a few days.”

I looked up, expecting to see the man who had just spanked my bottom, and was shocked to see a totally unfamiliar face.  I had never seen this man before.

“Good evening, Lily.  It is nice to meet you.  By the way, did my friend Georges call earlier.  He said he would drop off a parcel for me.”  He looked at the table in the hall and spotted a small package.

“Ah good, it’s here.  I’m sorry I didn’t warn you that he was coming.  I hope his appearance didn’t startle you too much?  I gave him a key in case you were busy upstairs with Alexander.”

“No, it’s fine.  He didn’t startle me at all.”

As I turned to go upstairs I couldn’t help smiling to myself.  Georges had startled me in the nicest possible way, and I would remember the evening for a long time to come.  

 

If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to leave a comment below.  Feedback from readers is very important to me.

 

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